ש לו ם ע ל יכ ם Shalom Aleichem
by Got Tea
Summary: A visitor shows up in the squad room asking for Ziva... Set some months after Enemies Foreign/Domestic
1. Prologue

For a split second time stopped; the air stilled, devoid of any movement whatsoever, and the temperature plummeted. The tiniest of moments drawn out into a flash of clarity, and then a blaze of impossible heat, a wave of furious pressure and a roar of thunder swamped all. The air flashed and sparked, and a rain of shrapnel hammered down like a freak hail storm.

…

Opening her eyes, Shea felt the sting of blood and soot as it clouded her vision. She blinked repeatedly, trying to clear away some of the grime. The far side of the building was still on fire; she could hear the crackling and feel the heat. Struggling, she forced her way out from under the cabinet that had fallen across her torso and upper legs. Coughing, she expelled a cloud of dust and ash from her lungs. In the dim light she inspected her wrists; now that she was no longer bolted to the wall she could unpick the cuffs binding her arms. With her hands free, she performed the same service for her ankles, and then crawled slowly to her knees. Scrabbling in the near darkness, she moved carefully to the end of the room; it was hard and painful work. In the distance she could hear sirens approaching. There was debris everywhere; torn furniture blocked her way, wood and plastic splinters dug into her hands and knees, metal chunks were all over the place, just waiting for her to gouge a weary body part on. Sparks flickered in the air; the fire was getting closer. From the volume of smoke and the rising heat level, she guessed it had burned into the next room. Shoving her way behind the remnants of a table she found what she was looking for. Two bodies were huddled together in the corner. She reached for the nearest, grasping an arm.

"Let's go," she hissed, tugging. Getting no response, she slid closer and put a hand to the woman's face, trying to wake her. Nothing. Heart in her throat, she reached for the carotid artery; there was no pulse. No breathing, no heartbeat. Instead, a huge chunk of twisted metal was lodged firmly in her chest, piercing the heart. The woman hadn't stood a chance; she'd died instantly. With a tremor in her fingers, Shea reached beyond the woman, grasping the shoulder of the other person. Turning her, she suppressed a scream of rage; shrapnel peppered her torso, arms and legs; a steel bar had fallen, crushing her hips and lower spine. Blood seeped rapidly from her multitude of wounds, joining the dark red pools beneath her.

"Shi, no," breathed Shea, stricken. Shi reached a shaking hand to the other girl; Shea took it in cold, blood smeared hands. Shea leant closer and Shi stretched out and touched her chest, fingers resting over Shea's heart.

"Here," she whispered, her breathing labored, "always."

"No, please!" murmured Shea, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Shalom, Shea," rasped Shi, her eyes closing. Her breath stopped, her heart stilled under Shea's palm.

Shalom. Peace. Goodbye.


	2. The Threat

Tony strode into the squad room still half asleep, having spent most of the night on the phone getting his father out of Senior's latest mess. He expected to be the last in, as usual. Tim was sat at his computer, his fingers flying over the keys; nothing unusual about that!

"Morning McKeyboard," called Tony.

"Hey, did you remember the coffee?" asked McGee, his eyes not leaving the screen. Approaching, Tony saw Tim's eyes were as bloodshot as his own.

"Here," he said, handing over the goods. Tim sighed deeply in gratitude.

"Thanks; I've been working on this since zero five hundred."

"What is it?" asked Tony, looking at the nonsensical lines of numbers and letters.

"You really don't want to know," was the reply.

"Ok," Tony looked around.

"Where's Ziva?" That caused McGee to look up.

"MTAC. Boss called her up there half an hour ago; she had a call from Tel-Aviv."

"In MTAC?"

"Yeah, weird huh?"

"Did he say anything about who it is?"

"Nope."

"Huh," Tony sank into his chair, puzzling it over. He was sipping his coffee, halfway through his email inbox when the elevator dinged. He looked up reflexively, always curious, and felt the air in his lungs evaporate.

Ziva walked toward them; the old, wild ninja Ziva. Except it wasn't her. As the girl drew closer Tony swallowed and stared; she was an inch shorter than the real Ziva, with the same skin tone, dark features, musculature and wild curly hair. She was dressed in black cargo pants, combat boots and a dark green hoodie under a military issue heavy jacket. A backpack was slung over one shoulder, and a scarf was wound around her head, keeping her hair back from her face in a manner eerily similar to his first image of his recently Americanized colleague.

There were differences though, that his eyes perceived as his shock slowly dissipated. Her eyes were a dark smoky grey, not brown, and her hair easily reached her waist. Her nose was slightly shorter, and she was much thinner than Ziva's slender form. Too thin, really. She walked with the balance and surety of a warrior, and the awareness and preparedness of someone employed in Ziva's former trade. She stopped in front of his desk, leaving a careful distance as though she needed a fast escape route.

"Excuse me," she said politely, "I am looking for Ziva David." The barest hint of an accent coloured her tone.

"Well, you've come to the right place," replied Tony. "I'm Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, and this is Special Agent Timothy McGee," he continued, as McGee stepped out from behind his desk and walked over, trying very hard to keep from staring. The girl pulled a leather ID from her pocket and flipped it open to show them.

"Officer Shoshanna David, Mossad. I must speak with Ziva immediately; it is most urgent."

"Mossad," said Tim.

"David," echoed Tony.

"Yes. Please, where is Ziva?"

…

Gibbs stood back from the small screen where Ziva sat, speaking with her father in Tel-Aviv. Absolute silences were punctuated by rapid fire bursts of Hebrew, her tone rising and falling slightly in agitation. Gibbs felt his gut churn; Eli David never brought good news. Since his visit to DC some months before, he had been making progress in repairing his relationship with his daughter, but he still made Gibbs uneasy. Watching Ziva now, he felt his heart sink; he could see the tension in her back, neck and shoulders, and was certain that could he see her face, he would see disappointment and distress. She raked a hand through her hair, and Gibbs was alarmed to see her fingers trembling. She uttered a fraught phrase and ended the call, ripping off her headset and dropping it on the table. She let out a string of angry exclamations that he didn't need to speak Hebrew to know were curses.

"Ziver, anything I can do to help?" he asked, stepping forward. She looked at him and sighed, shaking her head.

"I can't talk about it," she said. Seeing his look, she held up her hands in a peaceful gesture. "I really can't, I swore a promise to someone I love, as a matter of life and death."

"Ok," he nodded, as they walked out of MTAC and headed toward the stairs. Ziva opened her mouth to speak but stopped when she heard a voice that made her heart leap.

"Where is Ziva? I really must speak with her immediately!" Ziva bolted; she was down the stairs and in the squad room before Gibbs made it to the bend in the stairwell.

"Shea," gasped Ziva, running around into the bullpen.

"Ziva, thank God," gasped the girl, clutching Ziva in a tight hug.

"We don't have much time," she spoke urgently. "We need to speak to Mossad and Director Vance now. We were betrayed; they knew we were coming."

"You went off the grid six weeks ago," said Ziva.

"They got us not even two days in; our safe house was hit while Dania was on watch. Ayla, Shiloh and I were sleeping. She let them in, and then they killed her anyway."

Gibbs walked up behind Tony and McGee.

"Who's that?" he asked quietly, watching intently as Ziva and her visitor conversed in rapid Hebrew, their expressions serious and pained.

"Mossad Officer Shoshanna David," replied Tim.

"Who was Ziva talking to in MTAC?" asked Tony.

"Eli David."

"There's no such thing as a coincidence," muttered Tony, as Ziva grabbed a note pad from her desk and scribbled a series of numbers and a phonetic version of a Hebrew phrase.

"McGee," said Ziva, turning suddenly to her teammates. "I need you to get my father back in MTAC- this is a code to let him know the urgency. Gibbs, we must see Director Vance immediately, and then speak with my father. We have less than an hour to stop a simultaneous terrorist attack on fifteen US and Israeli naval vessels."

…

Gibbs sprinted up to the Director's office door, throwing it open and striding through, Ziva, Shea and Tony on his heels. Vance looked up from his desk, irritation in his brows.

"Director, we have an emergency," said Ziva immediately. "This is Shoshanna David; she has information about a terrorist attack that will take place in fifty two minutes. We must go to MTAC now." Leon didn't argue, instead he leapt from his chair and followed them out at a run, not even taking the time the grab his jacket. Director David was just appearing on the big screen when the group arrived.

"Shea," he gasped in relief as his gaze settled on the young woman, "I had feared the worst."

"We were betrayed; Dania gave us away. The cell has operatives on fifteen vessels in the Pacific, Atlantic and Indian Oceans. They will detonate explosives at precisely eleven-thirty Greenwich Mean Time. The bombers infiltrated the crews by taking on the identities of sailors they killed; they all work in general maintenance or galleys. The aim is to… ah… soar under the radar."

"Fly," snorted Tony, "fly under the radar!" Gibbs palm connected solidly with the back of his head.

"Get SECNAV and the Joint Chiefs on now," Vance ordered McGee, just as Eli rapped out a similar order in Hebrew.

It took a few minutes to connect the Israeli and American personnel to the call, and Tony used the time to observe Ziva and Shoshanna. They had to be related, he mused; from their looks, to the way the moved, to the way they stood now, at ease, but ready to move at a moment's notice. There was something off though, he thought, watching Shoshanna carefully. When she shifted slightly, he realised she was in pain, but working very hard to conceal that fact. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the last of the conference call participants.

Shoshanna repeated what she had already told the group in English, and then listed six ships in Hebrew; three Israeli Sa'ar 5-class corvettes, two patrol boats, one of which was currently in a foreign harbour for emergency maintenance, and a support vessel loaded with, among other things, ammunition and explosives. She rattled off the information quickly and clearly, the men on the screen either taking notes or typing frantically. Finishing with the Israeli ships, she moved on to the American vessels, switching back to English so quickly Tony wondered how she didn't confuse herself. McGee's fingers tapping away were the only other sound in the room as Shoshanna named four air craft carriers, two destroyers, two frigates and a cruiser. She questioned the men, making sure they had understood and taken the information correctly.

The screen changed; as the callers rang off, McGee pulled up real time satellite pictures of all fifteen ships. The group stood there, watching and waiting in silence. The minutes ticked by and nobody moved. On the small screen, Director David was still visible watching his own video feed, eyes intent, fingers interlaced and clenched before him, his knuckles standing out starkly white.

A digital clock showing GMT in bright red numbers glared at them all from the top right corner of the screen; at eleven twenty-nine Shea stopped breathing, waiting to see if it had all been in vain. The seconds ticked by methodically; the group stood staring, the tension in the room so thick the air itself seemed to have solidified, pressing on them fiercely.

Fifty-seven… fifty-eight… fifty-nine…

Eleven thirty AM on the dot…

Nothing…

Nothing…

Eleven thirty-one…

Still nothing…

An Israeli official came back on the line and announced that the suspect on board the support vessel was dead, and the explosives deactivated. A minute later a US Navy Commander reported that a frigate and an aircraft carrier had their bombers in custody. Within a quarter of an hour fourteen ships had reported their suspects captured or killed and their vessels secured. The last ship, the other US frigate, had yet to respond when Gibbs pointed to a stream of thick smoke pouring from the stern. Finally, at eleven fifty-seven GMT the Captain's voice could be heard telling SECNAV their suspect was down, there were no casualties, and there was minimal damage.

Gibbs felt a knot in his gut loosen, and he turned to thank their visitor just as Ziva yelled for help. Shea was sprawled on the floor, clearly unconscious with a thin trail of blood running from the corner of her mouth down a cheek that was so pale she looked as though all the blood had already been drained out of her.

"Get Ducky," he ordered Tony, dropping to his knees next to Ziva and reaching for a pulse in Shea's throat. Behind him he could hear Director David demanding to know what was going on, his voice tight and worried.

...

...

Hey there, this is my first foray into NCIS fiction. Enjoy, and please R&R, your thoughts are always appreciated.


	3. Collapse

Tony charged into autopsy and saw Ducky sitting at his desk, mercifully not elbow deep in a corpse, but writing notes in a chart.

"Ducky quick," he called urgently. "There's a live patient for you in MTAC!"

"Good gracious Anthony," said the doctor, getting to his feet and fetching his medical bag. "What happened?"

"I'm still trying to puzzle that one out myself," admitted DiNozzo as he led the way back to the elevator he had stalled, in an effort to save time. He flipped the switch and they zoomed upwards. "Ziva's… uh… doppelgänger? Whatever- so not important right now- Mossad Officer Shoshanna David turned up earlier and saved a ton of US and Israeli ships from a terrorist attack and then just keeled over."

Ducky stared at Tony, for a moment unsure if the boy was playing a joke on him, but quickly decided as evidenced by his tight posture and pursed lips he was not. Before he could formulate more questions, the elevator dinged and they were striding toward MTAC, where McGee was standing with the door open. Ducky raised an eyebrow at this breech of protocol, and hurried inside.

That his patient was in her early twenties, unconscious and dehydrated was his immediate assessment.

"What's wrong with her?" demanded the harsh tones of Eli David, prompting Ducky to flinch slightly as he caught sight of the Mossad Director on the big screen. Pushing any thoughts he had about that particular man aside, Ducky ignored him and reached for his patient's wrist. He glanced at Ziva, whose face was impenetrable with intensity.

"Ziva, what can you tell me?" he asked softly, cutting through the front of his patient's sweater in order to listen to her chest and palpate her ribs.

"Her name is Shea, she has been missing for six weeks in Venezuela; two members of her group are still unaccounted for." When Eli interrupted them, Ziva turned and snapped out a long, angry stream of Hebrew and then motioned for McGee to cut the connection, her face livid.

"Multiple burns, lacerations and rib fractures," Ducky said quietly to Gibbs, who knelt beside him. "She almost certainly has a concussion," he added, peeling back her eyelids and shining a light into her pupils.

"Timothy," he called, raising his voice. "Call an ambulance; Shea here will require hospital treatment." He softened his tone again, carefully opening her jaw. "There are missing teeth; forcibly removed, not naturally lost, or accidentally. The wounds are infected."

Gibbs glanced at Ziva; silent tears were dripping down her face and her hands trembled as she smoothed Shea's hair back from her face. Near silent words escaped her lips and he suddenly realized she was praying. He was well aware that Ziva was Jewish, but he was startled to realize he had never seen her so overtly express her faith beyond the moments after Ari's death.

"Jethro, cut her sleeves open, I need access to her arms," ordered Ducky.

"She told me they were betrayed," said Ziva suddenly, tracing her fingers over purple marks surrounding Shea's neck. "She has been tortured," she continued, expertly recognizing the marks covering Shea's exposed skin.

"This is broken," said Ducky, his fingertips skimming over Shea's left arm as the fabric fell away. "And she has been bound tightly; with handcuffs I would say."

"And suspended," said Ziva thickly, pointing to wrists that were swollen, bruised and raw. "These marks are made when handcuffs are used to suspend a body from height." She swallowed, and searched for a vein, inserting a peripheral catheter with ease. Ducky looked at her with surprise before attaching the IV line. "I was in the army Ducky," said Ziva quietly, removing the tourniquet. "We had to be ready for anything."

"What happened here?" he asked, indicating an old scar peering out of the top of the short sleeved black t-shirt that had been revealed underneath the hoodie. The mark ran the length of Shea's breastbone, a reminder of a trauma suffered on the battlefield.

"Shea was a Chameleon. She joined the army for three years instead of two, so she could work in field intelligence. She was stationed in the West Bank, working behind enemy lines. Two months before her discharge from active service she was shot in the chest by a Hamas operative."

"How old is she?" asked Gibbs, noting other healed injuries of varying severity.

"Twenty-three." Ziva reached for Shea's belt, removing a hand gun and knife and then checked her ankles for a back-up before gently unlacing her boots, and removing them.

"How did she get into the building armed like this?" asked Gibbs, his eyes widening. "Or onto the Navy Yard for that matter." Ziva snorted.

"I have been telling Michaels in security for weeks now that there are at least two immediate gaps in his new operation; Shea would have seen that as quickly as I did. And she was in a hurry remember!" Ziva turned to look at Tony, who had been on the phone with the main Navy Yard gates, warning them about the ambulance.

"Medics will be here in a couple of minutes," he said, nodding at McGee, who immediately shut down all classified information currently running on the MTAC screens.

"Did Shea show up with a visitor escort?" asked Ziva.

"No," said Tony slowly, "she didn't." Ziva shrugged at Gibbs and peeled back Shea's socks, revealing ankles that were in much the same condition as her wrists.

"These wounds are infected also," said Ducky. "She has shrapnel embedded in the backs of her arms, but not her torso. It looks like she was shielded by a large object during a blast of some description. There is internal damage; her lungs are not functioning as they should, and her breathing is decreasing rapidly."

Ziva eased one sock away completely and froze, eyes glazing over as she slipped away from reality.

"Ziver," called Gibbs softly, alarmed at her sudden dissociation. She didn't respond, and he reached across Shea to touch her shoulder. The second his fingertips made contact with her body, Ziva snapped her arm to the side, gripping and twisting his wrist into submission. When her eyes made contact with his she blinked slowly, regaining her bearings and then let go of him instantly.

"I am sorry," she said smoothly, "you startled me."

"Ok," shrugged Gibbs, though internally he was reeling. He had not seen a reaction like that from Ziva in years. He looked back at Ducky, who was listening to Shea's chest with a frown on his face.

"Her pulse is going up fast Duck," he said, fingers still pressed to the girl's wrist. Taking the scissors, Ducky cut through the stretch cotton of the black t-shirt in one brisk motion; he folded it back to expose obviously damaged ribs covered skin that was stretched tightly with rapid weight loss, and discolored in a violent combination of purple, black and sickly green. Red marks crisscrossed the bruises; some half healed, some seeping blood where they had been pulled by movement.

Ducky's fingers moved over the damaged ribs as he listened again, intent on finding something within the chest cavity. Shea was slowly turning blue around the lips and in the unblemished patches of visible skin. Gibbs could hear a wheezing rattle to her breath that chilled him to the bone. Ziva moved to cradle Shea's head, murmuring softly. She trembled with rage as Ducky pulled an object from his bag, ripped off the sterile wrapping and pushed a needle into Shea's chest, deep between two ribs. Air hissed and bubbled from the external end, and Ducky smiled with success.

"Good girl," he said soothingly to Shea, "that will help you no end my dear." He looked up at Ziva. "She will undoubtedly require surgery; perhaps you should notify her family."

"I am her family," replied Ziva, her finger's smoothing Shea's eyebrows with tender, caring motions. "She is my half-sister."

...

...

So... any thoughts? Should I continue with this one?


	4. The Urgent Wait

Ziva paced like an angry tiger, up and down the halls surrounding the surgical waiting room at Bethesda Naval Hospital, oblivious to the occasional angry glare from a passing nurse or orderly. Gibbs and Ducky sat quietly side by side against a wall, ignoring the newscast being broadcast across the room from them. Ziva passed by the door to the left with such regularity in her wanderings that Gibbs wondered if he could actually set his watch by her movements. His phone beeped, and he glanced at the text message; McGee letting him know he and Abby would have the requested information in an hour.

"What do you think Duck?" asked Gibbs finally, breaking a silence that had begun hours ago when Ziva shocked them all with her omission.

"About what Jethro?" asked Ducky, sighing heavily. "About Ziva? I think that poor girl has suffered more in her lifetime than any human being should bear witness too. About Eli David? I think the man exemplifies the truest qualities of evil. Were I a violent man I should imagine I would wish to do something about him. As it is, every time he involves himself in our lives, disaster ensues and he leaves a depth of suffering in the wake of his departure."

"I meant about Shea," said Gibbs, tilting his head to the side slightly as he studied his friend. "You know, what are her chances?"

"Oh… of course." Ducky pursed his lips, thinking.

"The paramedics said you saved her life putting that needle in her chest," Gibbs pointed out.

"It's not often that I get to make much of a difference to the health of a living being," shrugged Ducky, brushing aside any heroism. "Chest tubes are notorious for their associated high risk of infection. That is a major concern, and Shea already has infection embedded in various wounds." He paused, collating his thoughts.

"Without seeing the results of the testing they will be putting her through, from what I have already seen, I would hypothesize she was subjected to some kind of blast trauma that caused the rib fractures. Ziva believes that Shea was held captive in Venezuela, and given her physical state, I would say the explosion was less than twenty-four hours ago. The lung damage resulting from the rib fractures is more recent; a plane journey would be necessary to get here within that time frame, and if the pneumothorax was present before that she would be dead. The lung damage happened once she arrived in the US, most likely from her own physical movement.

"I can tell you it is considered a medical emergency, but not much more without seeing the extent of the damage. From what I saw of her other injuries, I would say that Ziva's six week time frame is consistent with the onset of captivity and torture. There are dozens of comparatively minor wounds that will require attention also."

"I saw guys with blast trauma when I was a Marine," said Gibbs. "Some looked fine for a while, and then just died right in front of my eyes."

"Sadly that is often the case; so much is unseen in these instances. Brain injuries, internal organ damage, ocular and auditory damage and psychological trauma to name a few. Unfortunately we will have to wait and see Jethro."

They lapsed back into silence, thinking about the grim reality of the unknown. Ziva continued with her pacing, oblivious to all around her as she prowled the halls, waiting for news as a steady fire of rage grew slowly within. Both Ducky and Gibbs watched her pass by the door repeatedly. Ducky noted the tight set of her shoulders, the defiant set of her face and the rigidity of her restless steps.

"I am concerned," he said to Gibbs abruptly.

"About Ziva?" was the reply.

"Yes," Ducky turned in his chair, looking over at Gibbs. "This situation bares remarkable resemblance to what happened to her in Somalia. I do not believe that there will not be some form of psychological repercussions."

"You and me both Duck," sighed Gibbs. "I think she had a flashback in MTAC. I touched her shoulder, to bring her out of it, and she nearly had my arm off before she realized it was me."

"I noticed," nodded Ducky.

"She said I made her jump, but Ziva's never startled; she reacts instantly but calmly to any situation."

"Hmm… what was she doing? What do you think caused the episode?" Gibbs thought back over the minutes hunched over Shea's motionless body.

"Removing her weapons and taking her socks off."

"She saw the soles of her sister's feet," was Ducky's quiet reply. Gibbs' eyebrows drew together in a frown. "I noticed as the paramedics were carrying her out that Shea has whip marks on the bottom of her feet. Ziva had the same punishment inflicted upon her in Somalia."

"How do you know that?" Gibbs searched his face, hoping it was just a guess. Ducky slumped back in his chair, feeling old and tired.

"I was in the squad room one evening; Ziva was preparing to run home, changing her socks and shoes. She was careful not to let anyone see, but she became momentarily distracted when her phone rang; a moment was enough for me to see the scars."

"Have you seen her medical records?" asked Gibbs abruptly. Ducky raised an eyebrow at him.

"She's not dead Jethro, and she's not the subject of an investigation. Ziva's medical records, unless her health has an impact on her job performance, are confidential, just like yours or mine."

"She'll never tell us what happened," Gibbs was still bitter and angry over the entire fiasco. He watched Ziva every day; while she appeared to be thriving in her new life and role, there were still shadows in her that he doubted would ever leave.

"It's doubtful," nodded Ducky, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Ziva was raised to depend on her independence and ability to survive. I would imagine Shea is much the same way. She would have been in considerable, if not overwhelming pain and yet she still managed to get to the US and prevent a major terrorist attack."

Raised voices from beyond the waiting room door made both men rise and investigate. Ziva was standing with her hands clenched into fists as a woman in the uniform of an orderly shouted angrily at her; she had at least a foot of extra height and twice the body weight of Ziva, towering over her with a face like a thundercloud but Ziva stood resolute, trembling with anger as the woman jabbed a finger toward her. Gibbs winced as Ziva deflected the shot, making a twisting motion with her fingers that made her foe yelp in pain. He ploughed in between them and shoved the orderly away.

"Back off," he snarled, shooting the woman an iron glare and memorizing her name tag. Wrapping a gentle arm around Ziva's shoulders he led her back inside, kicking the door shut before they could be followed. Ducky passed Ziva a paper cup of water and took her free hand in his, trying to surreptitiously measure her pulse. Ziva sipped and offered him a weak smile.

"I am fine Ducky," she said firmly.

"Of course you are my dear," he nodded, not at all agreeing with her. She sighed, her air of control deflating instantly as she crumpled into a chair.

"They will not tell me anything," she explained, "and I must speak with Shea as soon as possible."

"Ziva, she's in surgery," said Ducky quietly, concerned at her impatience and seeming lack of understanding at the gravity of her sister's situation.

"I understand that," she replied, "but there is more at stake here than just Shea's consciousness." She saw the two of them share a loaded glance and hissed in frustration, crumpling the empty cup in one angry fist.

"This is what Eli wanted to speak to me about," she told Gibbs, getting up to pace again. Her steps echoed on the linoleum floor as she walked circuits of the closed room. "Shea was part of a four person team sent to Venezuela to track a terrorist splinter cell with links to Hamas. Eli said they lost contact with the group six weeks ago, days after they arrived in Maracay. Shea said earlier that one member of the team betrayed them to the enemy, and was killed. That means the other two are still missing; if they were involved in the explosion, they could be in need of medical attention, or they could still be in captivity, and with Shea escaped, that reduces their chances of survival. In my experience, kidnappers do not like when they lose one or more of their victims, and tend to take it out on those that remain."

"I've got McGee trying to back trace Shea's movements," Gibbs told her.

"I doubt he will find where she was," Ziva was brutally truthful. "If my father could not keep track of them, then no one could." Gibbs was disbelieving.

"I told you this morning I could not talk about it," she reminded him of their conversation and he nodded. "Well, I care no longer for the secrecy. Shea is another Ari, as is Shiloh, one of her missing teammates."

"You have two half-sisters?" he asked, realization dawning as he mulled over her comments.

"Yes." Ziva pulled Shea's ID from her pocket and flipped open the leather wallet. She reached behind the plastic identity card and pulled out a folded picture, handing it to Gibbs. He studied the image of a youthful Ziva, a teenage Tali, whom he recognized from Ziva's favorite photograph, and two other girls, not much younger than Tali. All four where sprawled together on the white sands of a pristine beach, their brightly colored swimsuits as full of cheer as their smiling faces; water droplets clung to their hair and skin, testament to a splash contest, and the summer sun reflected brilliant patterns where it struck the water.

"Are they twins?" he asked, shifting slightly so Ducky could view the picture more easily. Ziva smiled at his question.

"No, although they have often been mistaken as so. Shiloh is a year and a day older. As a child she was ill for a long time, and as a result she and Shea started school together. They went into the army together, serving in the same unit, and then joined Mossad."

"Do they do what Ari did?" asked Ducky, appalled at the thought. "Infiltrate terrorist organizations?"

"No," Ziva shook her head and stopped moving, leaning back against the wall, her weight balance with one leg bent at the knee, ready to push away at a moment's notice. Gibbs wondered if it was even a conscious decision, or if was so ingrained in her training that she no longer noticed such things. "My parents divorced when I was thirteen; they were separated for several years before, even trying to reconcile, but my mother could not understand his commitment to his job above the family. He went on assignment with another operative, a woman, and when she told him she was pregnant, he thought another son would make another mole.

"By Shiloh was not a son, and Haya would not hear of her children being used so. I remember her so clearly," mused Ziva. "Haya means alive in Hebrew, and she was so alive, so full of enthusiasm that her name fit her perfectly. She worked hard to befriend my mother; Haya had no family, and she believed family was important above all other things. She wanted Shea and Shiloh to be surrounded by as many people who loved them as possible. But she walked out on Eli too when Shi was three, after she found him showing her how to disassemble a rifle. He had forgotten to unload it, and Shi shot a hole in the wall, right above Shea's crib. Haya left, and moved to the same complex as my mother. She would take us all to the beach when my mother worked, and my mother would watch Shea and Shi when Haya worked nights."

"What happened to her?" Ducky asked, afraid to know the answer. Ziva's expression changed to one of profound sadness as her gaze shifted into the past.

"She died a year after they started school. She was a paramedic and Hamas blew up her ambulance two blocks from our house. I saw it happen."

"That's terrible," murmured Ducky.

"It is life in Israel," replied Ziva gravely. "Suicide bombers attack restaurants, shopping malls, universities and busses. I got off a bus in Haifa once, one stop before a Palestinian militant boarded and detonated his suicide jacket; everyone perished.

"Did you know that in Israel, Remembrance Day is the day before Independence Day to remind people of the price we pay for our freedom? Growing up I did not know anyone who was untouched by loss. I saw Haya die, and then Tali when she was sixteen, and my mother a year later. Tali was singing at a café in Jerusalem, celebrating a friend's birthday when two men hid explosives in a baby carriage. They sat and listened to her for nearly an hour before detonating their device. I had never felt such rage; when I met Tony, I told him that after Tali's death I was like Gibbs when Kate died; I was fixated on revenge and nothing else mattered." She stopped speaking and stared at them, her eyes level and calm, despite the emotions swirling with in her heart. In her eyes they could see thousands of years of Jewish grief and loss reflecting back at them.

"Do you understand now? Why it is so important that I speak with Shea? Why I must find Shiloh and Ayla?"

...

...

Please R&R, I'm falling in love with this story, and would like to know if you are too...


	5. Questions

"McGee, McGee, McGee," cried Abby as her fellow geek walked into her lab. "What's going on around here? Ziva left in an ambulance? She was fine last night! We went to yoga and then out for dinner, and when"

"Slow down Abs," said Tony, walking in behind Tim.

"But Tony, Ziva's,"

"Fine," interrupted McGee. "She left in the ambulance, but she wasn't the patient, her sister was."

"What?" Abby almost dropped the Caf-Pow Tony had handed her. "But Tali died years ago."

"True," nodded Tony, "Shoshanna is still very much alive though," he paused, frowning. "Well, at the moment," he continued, and stopped, cringing. "That didn't come out right."

"What he means," sighed Tim, pushing past Tony to get to the keyboard, "is that Shea is not in great shape." He was already working on hacking into Mossad to get Shea's record; having already broken in before he had left himself a hidden back door, just in case he needed it in the future. He ignored Abby and Tony's discussion as the morning's events were hashed out and explained in great detail, concentrating instead on getting the information he was looking for.

"This is weird," he said at last.

"What is?" asked Abby immediately, spinning around to stare at him.

"I can't find any record of Officer Shoshanna David in the Mossad database. Nothing at all, as if she doesn't exist."

"What about military records?" suggested Tony, one hand absently resting on Burt's head as he considered the conundrum. "Ziva did say she was a soldier. Something about being a lizard."

"Chameleon," corrected McGee, already typing away.

"Wow, talk about a tough assignment," said Abby, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the keys at the keyboard adjacent to McGee's.

"Apparently she volunteered," said Tony, moving to stand behind the two of them, his eyes following the screens for something he could understand. So far all they had was a lot of numbers and letters.

"Why do you think Ziva didn't tell us she had another sister?" he asked idly. "She told me about Tali right when we met, and we've know about Ari for years."

"I don't know," shrugged Abby. "But she's Ziva, she has good reasons for everything."

"Hmm," mumbled Tony, plucking a loose thread from McGee's jacket seam.

"Here," said McGee suddenly, as Shea's image appeared on the screen. Dressed in IDF army field dress, she looked exactly like Ziva. Purely for comparison purposes, McGee pulled up Ziva's military service photograph too and the three of them gasped.

"Oh my god," whispered Abby, her fingers frozen on her mouse. "Aside from their eyes, they could be twins."

"Now you see why I nearly had a heart attack when she walked into the squad room," mused Tony. McGee kept typing, ordering the computer to translate the military information from Hebrew to English.

"Here we go," he said as the screen changed. "Shoshanna David, born January 1st 1989 in Tel-Aviv to Elias David and Haya David, who were not married at the time and are of no relation."

"I guess Ziva was right about David being a common Israeli last name," noted Tony.

"Her only listed sibling is Shiloh David, born December 31st 1987 in Haifa to Elias David and Haya David."

"Shiloh?" asked Abby, typing away again. "Wow this is getting weird," she muttered, bringing up another picture to match the two she already had. Shiloh David clearly resembled Shoshanna, and when Abby found a picture of Haya the trio could see both girls got their eyes from their mother. Beyond that, it was evident that Haya's features were much more dominant in Shiloh than Shoshanna, despite the fact that both girls were incredibly similar.

"This is really weird," Abby repeated, shuffling the pictures. With Shoshanna in the middle, they could see how she resembled both of her sisters, while Shiloh and Ziva had few traits in common.

"Is there any more information?" asked Tony.

"Nothing on Shiloh," said McGee minutes later, frowning at the computer. "It's like neither of them existed prior to or post military service."

"I found what I think is a death announcement for Haya," said Abby. "The translator kind of mangled the words; it doesn't make much sense! I also found an old BBC report about a terrorist bombing on an ambulance in Haifa; a Haya David is listed as one of the victims."

"Ok, this is great, but we're supposed to be tracking Shea's movements prior to showing up here this morning," sighed Tony. Tim and Abby looked at each other and shrugged. They printed what they had, leaving Tony to put it together into a file and then headed back upstairs to MTAC.

After making a quick trip to the bathroom and then the vending machines, knowing the others would be getting as hungry as he was, Tony joined Abbs and McGee, who were sifting through satellite footage.

He passed out snacks and took to pacing across the room, trying to think.

"I don't get why there are no other records," he grumbled, more to himself than the other two, although they still heard him. "Or why they don't register as being related to Ziva."

"Ok," sighed Abby, determined to walk it through step by step. "We know Shoshanna is Mossad, which could explain the lack of post military records. Given Ziva was also Mossad, let's assume that Shiloh is too, which is why hers are nonexistent as well."

"Maybe they're moles, like Ari," suggested Tony.

"It could be an admin error?" proposed McGee.

"Not likely though, is it? This is Mossad," replied Abby, shaking her head.

"Ok, maybe they were expunged for some reason?" said McGee.

"Like what?" Tony raised his eyebrows.

"Well, we got rid of Ziva's records when she went undercover as her old self."

"Could be witness protection," shrugged Tony, getting into the swing of the discussion, "or government cover up. Maybe they faked their deaths." His imagination began to run away with outlandish scenarios. McGee glanced over at Abby, she rolled her eyes at him but neither made a move to shut him up; while Tony was occupied, they could continue their search. The found no trace of Shea on Navy Yard security cameras.

"It's like she appeared out of thin air," muttered McGee, manipulating satellite footage. "I can't believe she got onto the base and into the building without being seen by security."

"Michaels is going to get it big time from Vance," predicted Abby, scanning through images from the main gates. "Got her," she said a moment later. "McGee, look! She came that way!" McGee expanded the search in the right direction and eventually they were able to trace Shea back to a military airfield in Bogotá, Colombia, at which point they lost the trail.

"Whoa, wait a minute," said Abby suddenly, her attention shifting. "I've got it. I know why there's no cross reference between Ziva and her sisters." She was typing furiously, pulling up Ziva's military record and hitting print. Grabbing a highlighter she yanked the binding from the file they had compiled so far, dumping the papers out onto the counter and rifling through until she found what she wanted. She placed the three sister's military record sheets side by side and highlighted the same line on each. Tony and McGee crowded around to see what she was doing.

"Look," said Abby, pointing first to Ziva's information, and then the other two. The line that listed the father's name on Ziva's sheet read Eli David, but on the other two was listed as Elias David.

"It's the same thing that happened with Ari," she explained. "Ari used his mother's surname, and Eli used an alias on the birth certificate. He's done the same thing here. Haya had the same last name anyway, so he just altered his first name and there you go, no cross referencing."

"Sneaky," muttered Tony. Tim shook his head.

"Genius," he said. "Shiloh and Shoshanna really are Ari all over again."

"I hope not," said Abby, feeling sick. "Ziva doesn't deserve to lose any more siblings.

…

The recovery room was cool and quiet. Shea drifted on the remnants of anesthesia, and Ziva sat perched on the edge of the bed, Shea's unbroken hand in hers as she murmured soft prayers in Hebrew.

Gibbs and Ducky stood outside, talking with the surgeon who had just emerged from the room, sliding the door shut behind him. Not following the medical jargon, Gibbs turned to watch Ziva through the sliding glass panel, waiting for the doc to leave and Ducky to translate.

"I was right," Ducky said softly, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with Gibbs. "Fractured ribs tore the lung tissue, creating massive internal bleeding and pockets of air in the chest cavity. Doctor Wheeler is optimistic; he said the surgery went without a hitch. Shea was remarkably lucky; it seems she was indeed shielded from much of the blast by some large object. She's breathing independently, which is in a very good sign."

"How long till she wakes up?"

"Soon, I would imagine, but she'll be largely unresponsive for a while because she'll need strong pain relief for a few days. Chest injuries are particularly painful, and under medicating typically results in the patient breathing to shallowly in order to reduce the pain involved with chest movement, which then leads to insufficient amounts of oxygen in the blood."

"Boss," called a voice from behind them. Ducky and Gibbs turned, seeing Tony, Tim and Abby walking across the room.

"Any news?" asked Abby immediately. Gibbs nodded to the room, indicating Ziva and Shea.

"Surgery's over, doc's optimistic," he said tersely, "What do you got?"

"We traced Shea from the Navy Yard entrance to Andrews Air Force Base; she came in on a British C-5 cargo plane returning from a joint mission to Bogotá, Colombia. We can't find her before she gets on the plane in Colombia, and I have no idea how she got off the base, but we can follow most of her path to the Navy Yard."

"We also did some digging through Mossad files," added Abby. "There are no records for Shoshanna David, nor for Shiloh David, who is Ziva's other,"

"Half-sister, yeah we know," nodded Gibbs, glancing back at the doors again, as though they could give him some news.

Abby looked at McGee, a slight frowning question in her brows, before she continued.

"The only information we found on Shoshanna and Shiloh is their military records, which are highly classified."

"Most of the information is redacted," continued McGee, "so all we really have is basic personnel details. We also have no idea why she was in Colombia, when Ziva said the group disappeared in Venezuela. There's nothing to go on."

Gibbs sighed and ran a hand through his military short haircut.

"Sorry boss," shrugged Tony, spreading his hands in frustration.

"Don't apologize," replied Gibbs. "It's Mossad, we should have expected it." He leant back against the wall, wishing he had a coffee to wash away the headache taking root behind his eyes.

…

Ziva watched Shea struggle to open her eyes, fighting the lingering effects of anesthesia and the overpowering need to succumb to the painkillers sedative tendencies.

"Shea?" she murmured softly. "It is ok, you are safe. It is just me here."

"Ziva," came a whisper so quiet and raw she almost missed it.

"Yes Shoshi. Do you remember getting to America?" Shea nodded, rather than trying to speak. Her throat felt as though a red hot poker had been shoved down it and twisted like a corkscrew.

"I know you want to go back to sleep," soothed Ziva, stroking Shea's hair back from her face and leaning over to kiss her forehead, "but can you tell me where Shi and Ayla are first?"

Tears began to run silently down Shea's face, and she closed her eyes in defeat.

"Bogotá," she whispered. "The warehouse… exploded. Ayla… a post… Shi… I saw… Shalom…gone…" She heaved a shuddering breath, her face contorted in agony and Ziva felt her heart plummet. She leant over the bed, putting her head beside Shea's and resting her cheek against her sister's, one hand in Shea's hair, the other holding her hand tightly. Shea was crying harder now, struggling to get her words out. "Gone…" she repeated, "dead. I had … to… leave them," she gasped. Ziva groped for the button to dispense more pain killer, still cradling her sister's head.

"Sshh," she mumbled, "I have got you Shea, I will not let go." She waited long moments, pressing the button again, until she was sure Shea had slipped back into unconsciousness, before straightening. Her hands trembled as she stared at the hospital bed, unable to recall the last time she had felt so empty.

She needed to call Tel-Aviv, and tell Eli where to find the bodies. The bodies! She walked to the door and slipped through, sliding it gently closed behind her. She saw Gibbs, Ducky, Tony, Abby and McGee clustered together a few feet to her left, and felt something inside her snap. Gibbs was staring at her; she met his gaze, her eyes flat and livid.

"They are dead," she said, anger making her slender frame shake as she lost her grip on her control and whirled, slamming her fist into the wall. Gibbs was there in a second, his arms wrapped tightly around her; restraining her and comforting her at the same time. In an instant she crumbled, slumping in his arms as she sobbed, utterly distraught.

...

...

Happy weekend, please R&R


	6. Loss

Gibbs slid open the door to Shea's room and slipped through, pushing it shut behind him while somehow keeping hold of Ziva. Beside herself with grief, she sobbed in his arms, wholly inconsolable. Her right arm hung limply at her side; he knew something was broken, having heard the crack of bone when her fist smashed a dent into the stainless steel wall panel. Her entire body shook with the effort of crying as he sank onto a bench against the wall and gently pulled her against his chest, trying to envelope as much of her in his arms as possible to make her feel safe, as he had once done with Kelly after nightmares.

On the bed, Shea lay immobile and deeply asleep, oblivious to Ziva's distress. The morphine kept her free of physical pain, but did nothing to help her deal with her mental anguish. It merely pushed the time when she would have to confront her feelings farther down the road.

…

For a long moment after Gibbs vanished with Ziva, Ducky and the others remained standing exactly where they had witnessed their colleague crack under the strain of loss.

Tim stood frozen and visibly emotionless, despite the fact that he was shaken to the core at the sight of the toughest person he had ever known crumbling right in front of his eyes. He had never seen such a raw, emotional and angry expression of grief; it left him feeling cold and dazed.

Abby clutched her hands to her mouth, hot and silent tears running down her cheeks as her empathetic nature kicked into overdrive. Her heart hammered in her chest as her lungs burned with the breath stolen away as she listened, aghast, to Ziva's confession that the missing agents were dead.

Tony stared at the floor, trying to focus on the lines in the linoleum as he felt his heart break just a little bit more for his best friend and partner. Even as he began thinking about everything that needed to be done, he wondered when Ziva would get the break she so deserved.

Ducky felt sick at the waste of it all. Swallowing back comments aimed at the Director of Mossad that were inappropriate for the moment, he wrapped an arm around Abigail, trying to offer comfort. A glance to his left showed him that Timothy was faring little better, and so he reached out, resting a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"I'm going to get some coffee," muttered DiNozzo finally, trudging out of the room. Ducky gave Abby a squeeze and inclined his head in Tony's direction. Abby gave a watery half smile and walked out after him. They would talk each other out of their gloom and back into focus. Ducky turned to Tim as the other two vanished from sight.

"What next Timothy?" he asked. Tim blinked and looked at him, confused. "What do we do now?" clarified Ducky, tugging his jacket straight.

"Umm…" Tim tried to think clearly, his mind racing. "I should let Vance know what's going on," he mused.

"Yes," Ducky nodded, hoping to shift Tim back into work mode. Having something to do would help all of them. "I can do that. I believe that Ziva will need to contact Tel-Aviv soon; can you set up a secure connection here for her?" he asked. McGee nodded and thought for a moment.

"I can set up a video conference in Shea's room; Director David would probably like to speak with both Ziva and Shea," he pondered. Ducky bit back a remark about what Director David would and wouldn't like. "I need to grab a few things from the office first though," continued Tim, and Ducky nodded.

"I'll come with you and update our director in person," he said, picking up his overcoat with a sigh.

…

Eli David sat in his desk chair, leaning back and staring at the row of flags across the room from him that represented his country, agency and office. Not for the first time in his life he wondered if it was worth it. The wars, the sacrifice, the loss, all of it. And then, like so many times before, his eyes were drawn to the photographs on the shelf beside his desk.

Among others his parents were there; happily married and healthy before Belsen. Unlike many thousands of others, they had survived but at a price. They never enjoyed full health after, either in body or mind, and they struggled with their experiences for the rest of their lives. They moved to Jerusalem, had two sons and a daughter, helped build a Jewish state from the ashes of World War Two, and tried to live the rest of their lives in peace. The rest of their lives had not been long; Eli's mother had died when he was a teenager, and his father before Eli could finish college, both from the long term effects of starvation and brutality.

Every time he had doubts about his choices and actions he remembered the conversation with his father not long before the man had passed away. The Holocaust must never be permitted to happen again; Israel must be allowed to prosper as a free state to all Jewish people, no matter what the consequences. In a world of hatred, persecution and danger, there must be one safe haven for the people to run to. His father had been instrumental in the creation of the safety forces protecting Israel's borders; he had passed his knowledge, desire and reasoning along to his eldest son, and made him promise to do what he could, no matter the price.

Eli knew he was a difficult man, he had learned this trait from his father also, and he knew that he had committed many sins for which he was sure it would be impossible to atone. He also knew that, having seen firsthand in his childhood the scars left on the generation preceding his, he would breathe his dying breath trying to fulfill his promise not just to his father, but to the millions lost before him, and to the millions who needed his work now.

To survive the path he had chosen, he forced himself to harbor no regrets in order to keep his judgment clear and untainted. And despite the fact that it was buried from view, his heart harbored several great sadness's. The loss of Tali, who had been a light in all their lives. His divorce and the subsequent impact on the lives of his children. His parent's deaths; the fact that his sister no longer spoke to him; the disaster that had unfolded with his son.

Leon had never asked him the question, and when he spoke of why he had raised his daughter the way he had, he had spoken the truth. His dream was the same as his father's; a free and safe home for future generations. It was not a decision he had taken lightly, first with Ziva and then with Shiloh and Shoshanna. Putting a child in harm's way was never the right thing to do, but the fact was, simply by being born in the nation they had placed them all in great danger. Teaching them to protect themselves was Eli's way of trying to ensure his children's survival.

He knew it was wrong, to place the burden of expectation upon them, that they would follow in his and their grandfather's footsteps and join the Mossad. But at the same time, there were so few people he knew so well, and could place upon such levels of trust.

Children were sacred in Jewish belief and culture; a tenant to which he had always subscribed. He wished truly that his children would be allowed to live long and prosperous lives. But he was also coldly realistic and in possession of far too much knowledge of how the world really worked. If the price for his children's survival was the training and work he pushed them to, then he was willing to pay it.

One of the many technology geniuses working at HQ knocked on his door, pushing his thoughts aside as the agent entered with a laptop under his arm.

"Agent McGee at NCIS requested help setting up a secure video conference for you and one of their agents," he said, settling the laptop on Eli's desk. "They will be online in approximately two minutes sir," he continued, pressing a few keys.

"Thank you," replied Eli gravely. "I appreciate your efforts." The young man nodded and left, returning the room to its state of melancholy silence. Eli sat, unmoving, waiting for Ziva's face to appear, and hoping, despite the tug of realism that came from his training and instincts, that she would have good news.

His hope evaporated the second his gaze fell on her expression. She had evidently recently washed her face, but her eyes were red, and tears still sparkled there, waiting to fall.

"Ziva," he murmured, his heart lurching.

"Abba," she sighed, swiping away a solitary tear that dared to drop, despite her determination not to cry in front of her father. She cleared her throat and bit back a snuffle; he could hear her altered breathing and knew she had only just regained control of her emotions. He hoped fervently that someone had been there to offer her comfort as she cried.

"Shiloh and Ayla are dead," she said, her voice cracking on the last word. Eli bowed his head and covered his eyes with a hand. Ziva bit her lip savagely until the pain overwhelmed the tears that were beginning to fall again and she could concentrate on speaking. "Dania betrayed them and was killed by the enemy. Shea said they were in a warehouse in Bogotá and it blew up."

"How is she?" asked Eli. Ziva moved the laptop so the camera focused on Shea, sleeping in the hospital bed.

"She has been tortured and she has injuries from the explosion. The doctor said she will be given a lot of medication for the next few days to combat the pain. She is comfortable now, and I have been told she should recover well."

"I will get their bodies back," Eli promised, feeling old, cold and tired. "They will be buried as they deserve."

"It will be at least ten days before Shea can travel," said Ziva, settling the PC back on the table. "Because of the damage to her lungs." Eli nodded with a heavy sigh.

"I imagine that the Colombian authorities have already responded; we will have to go through official channels and it may take some time," he acknowledged. "Did Shea give any indication about the state of their cover?"

Ziva shook her head.

"She could barely tell me what happened; it will be a while before she is fit to say more," she shrugged, taking her sister's hand in hers.

The pair fell quiet, taking in the sorrow of the situation.

"I am sorry Ziva," said Eli abruptly. They stared at each other, and when Eli opened his mouth to say more, Ziva held up a hand to stop him.

"We are all bound by duty," she said quietly. "Shiloh and Ayla understood that as well as any of us. I may be American now, but Israel still lives in my heart and always will. We do what we must, and sometimes the consequences are tragic." Ziva stopped and looked away, lips pursed as she dared the tears that threatened to fall to actually breach her eyelids. She might believe in duty, but that didn't stop her from feeling the acute loss, and raging anger.

Eli brushed a hand across his face and wondered yet again if duty asked too much of them. His eyes flicked to his photographs and he knew he would never stop trying to keep his promise, not matter how much it hurt him and the ones he loved.

"Can I do anything?" he asked gently. Ziva shook her head.

"Just bring them home," she sighed wearily, looking at Shea. Her gaze swept over an ugly mark peering out of the sleeve of the hospital gown and her eyes hardened with fury. She turned back to the computer.

"And make sure the scum that did this are dead."

…

Eli stood beside Tali's grave, encased in the dark of night and the quiet of the cemetery. His detail was close by, waiting for him as they kept a respectful distance. He stared at the headstone and the inscription, now slightly worn with age, wondering not for the first time if she was keeping tabs on them all. Tali had been that rare soul who saw the good in everyone and never judged the actions of others. Her death had taken a part of every member of her family with her. Rivka was never the same; physically her death was caused by shrapnel from fighting in the West Bank as she visited friends, but mentally she had begun to die the day Tali left them.

He remembered only to clearly the moment he learned of the tragedy; it was afternoon and he was reviewing satellite footage when co-workers brought the news to him. He drove himself there, and stood at the edge of the scene staring at the obliterated café and feeling his heart splinter along with the rubble around him.

Ziva had been in the office that day too, having just returned from one of her earliest assignments. He told her himself what had happened, and she refused to believe him until he showed her a photograph of the scene, sans bodies. Ziva had always been driven, even as a child, to excel at whatever she did, and he could admit to himself now that he had ruthlessly exploited that trait in her. But after Tali's death, after the mourning and funeral were over, she had been possessed with rage and the need for revenge. Struggling with his own grief and anger, he had given her all the tools she needed to follow through with her goal. Only later, many years later as their loss became easier to accept, did he begin to realize it was perhaps not such a good idea.

Standing beside Tali now he inclined his head and offered an age old prayer before stepping up to the grave and placing a small stone atop piles of others already there. As a child, Shiloh had hero worshipped Tali, despite the mere thirteen months between them, and Tali had doted on her two younger siblings. As he trudged heavily back to his car, Eli allowed himself to hope that wherever she was now, Tali would take up that role again.

...

...

This chapter is for GraceSong and Summer95 whose comments inspired me to continue with this story. Recent events left me feeling seriously uninspired when it comes to NCIS, but considering this has been stewing in the back of mind for a least a couple of years I thought I'd at least give it another shot. So if you like what you're reading, please press review and let me know. Your thoughts are always so appreciated.

Cheers, happy reading and writing, Got Tea?


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